


Naked Truth

by Nyx Midnight (nyxmidnight)



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga
Genre: Digital Devil Saga 2, M/M, Meat Processing Plant, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxmidnight/pseuds/Nyx%20Midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things you should only do in the dark. If at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked Truth

Roland lets out a guttural groan as he throws his head back against his pillow. It’s been so long since he last did this, but he welcomes the burning pressure inside him, the feeling of fullness that makes him feel whole. Powerful thighs force his legs apart, and if he just focuses on that, he can almost… 

“Am I doing this right?”

Roland swallows and nods, briefly opening his eyes to look at the man above him. “Doin’ great,” he breathes. He reaches up with one hand, cups his cheek. “Don’t stop…”

Gale nods, then holding on to Roland’s hips for leverage, begins to move his hips back and forth, tentatively.

Hooking a leg around Gale’s waist, Roland tries to guide the clumsy thrusts as best as he can. His cold foot startles Gale, making him shove a little too hard, a little too high into him, making him growl. Pretty soon, though, Gale has more or less figured things out, and he can get a good rhythm going.

Roland’s eyes flutter closed again, and he allows himself to just feel, to focus on the cock stretching him wide, on the strong hands holding him steady. It’s almost the same and yet not quite… he remembers a time when this felt better, when the cool humidity of the underground air didn’t feel so bleak, when his breath wasn’t always tainted by the smell of alcohol, when…

There’s a soft groan above him, and Gale shifts to penetrate him deeper, lowering himself down on his elbow.

Feeling the mattress dip beside him, Roland reaches out to stroke Gale’s arm. He finds the fine hair there standing on end, so he reaches up, wraps his arms around Gale’s back, and pulls him down on top of him, because he too is a bit cold. The man is heavy on top of him, pressing him down into the old mattress, but that’s okay, it feels good, just like the muscled back against his palms and the man’s breath tickling his ear.

The pace is much quicker now, and the aim much more precise, drawing a strangled groan from him as he digs his blunt nails in the soft flesh beneath his hands. It feels good, not *great*, but good. If he wraps his legs around him like this, he can feel as if, even if the voice in his ear is too high and the hair he’s gripping is too short and too soft and the skin against his tongue tastes like bitter rain, like sorrow and regrets, yes, he can feel as if…

Another soft groan against his ear, and Roland is turning his head, pulling on the strands of hair between his fingers to capture the other man’s lips, drawing him into a bruising kiss to make him shut up, just shut up, just shut the fuck up. If he can make him shut up, he’ll be able to enjoy the feeling of skin against skin and lips against his and strong arms holding him tightly… Yes, God, memories flood over him, and he tries to hold on to them just so he can feel, so he can pretend that this man not only knew him but *is* him, that he’s returned, that everything is all right with the world again and—

_Greg!_

“G… ale!!!”

The cold air of the room makes him gasp when Gale carefully untangles himself and pulls out to get rid of the used condom. He lays motionless, feeling drained and empty, as Gale grabs a few tissues and cleans the mess he made on his stomach.

“What did you do earlier?” Gale asks as he wipes away some semen from Roland’s navel.

Roland winces a bit, partly from Gale digging a bit too hard into the sensitive indent, and partly in fear that Gale has figured out about… “What, sex?”

“With your mouth,” Gale corrects. He throws the handful of tissues towards the wastebasket; it bounces on the wall and lands neatly into it.

“Oh.” Roland grabs his glasses from the bedside table and slips them on. As much as he’d prefer to cool down in peace and silence with his fantasy and his guilt, he has to see Gale properly if he wants to even try and guess what the man is thinking. “It was a kiss?”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Gale is looking at him but not quite, thinking, pondering Roland’s words, and there’s something in Gale’s eyes, like he’s trying to remember something… something important. But it eventually fades, and Gale nods, slowly. “I see.” Just as Roland thinks he’s going to let it drop, though, Gale leans closer and tentatively presses his parted lips against Roland’s, briefly. “Like this?”

Roland nods and swallows like it could soothe the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yeah. Like this,” and he cups Gale’s cheek and kisses him again. His glasses are in the way, and they dig hard into his eyebrow, but he doesn’t mind it if it can make this whole thing feel right even for just a second.

Gale licks his lips and nods again when they part, but he pulls back. “Since we are naked and the bed is undone, we should sleep.”

“You…” Roland sits up on the bed, then stands and begin to walk away, slowly. “You can lay down, I’ll be right back,” he says, his back turned to Gale, as he picks his pants up from the floor and slips them on. He’s halfway to the door when Gale calls after him.

“Are you all right?”

Roland freezes in his tracks. “Yes, why?” he asks, surprising himself with how sure he sounds, because that’s certainly not how he feels.

“You are walking as if in pain.”

A soft chuckle escapes Roland’s lips as he continues on his way. “I’m fine. You lay down and sleep, okay?” He doesn’t wait for Gale’s answer before closing the door. He wasn’t sure he’d get one anyway.

He makes his way along the darkened hall he knows by heart, into the improvised war room, to the liquor cabinet. In the feeble light of the Mad Mart’s neons filtering through the small, dirty window, he pours himself a drink, the first of many, raises a toast to his fallen leader, and gulps it down like it could erase everything.


End file.
